


Couldn't Care Less

by scrambledpancakes



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29656341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrambledpancakes/pseuds/scrambledpancakes
Summary: As much as Craig Tucker claims he doesn't care about the new student who moved in across the street, he can't help but notice every little detail about him.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 30
Kudos: 84





	1. 01

Dead, crinkled leaves leapt along the asphalt, seemingly on a mission. 

Their journey, helped along by the bitter autumn wind, led Craig Tucker's gaze from the edge of his driveway across the vacant street. His eyes followed them intently until they stopped short at a pair of dark brown work boots with untied laces. His stare moved upwards from the boots to find thin legs beneath threadbare grey jeans. There were small holes forming in the knees revealing patches of pale skin, and he could tell that the rips were organic and not a fashion statement.

The jeans, however, were quickly overshadowed by the frayed hem of an oversized olive green sweater. A white button-down was obscured by the mass of knit fabric, and Craig only knew it existed once he saw the crooked collar peeking out over the top. Beyond that was a face that he couldn't _quite_ make out the features of, but it was topped with a mop of wild blond hair that looked soft to the touch.

As another strong gust of wind blew past, his laser focus seemed to short circuit. He scanned the driveway for the leaves that had initially grabbed his attention, but all he found were dozens of cardboard boxes haphazardly strewn about.

_Must be the new neighbors_ , he thought to himself.

Craig shrugged his shoulders and hopped into his car, feeling the immediate relief once the door was shut and the wind could no longer reach him. One would think that he'd be used to the cold weather in Colorado having lived there his whole life, but he'd always preferred the warmer summer months. 

He started the car and immediately blasted the heat out of desperation despite the cold air blowing through the vents. While he waited for it to warm up, he fiddled with his phone for a bit until he finally got the auxiliary cord to connect. The cord itself was on its last leg, and Craig had to set his phone in _just_ the right position for it to work. It was a more-than-annoying ritual he went through every time he needed to drive somewhere, but it was necessary nonetheless.

As he scrolled through the music on his phone, he couldn't quite find something he was dying to listen to. With a flick of his wrist, he exited the music app and tapped on his favorite space podcast instead. With the soothing male voice describing nebulas and galaxies dripping through his speakers, he finally felt satisfied. His friends made fun of him for preferring podcasts over music sometimes, but that never really bothered him. 

He liked what he liked and that was that.

As he pulled out of the driveway and into the street, he briefly got a closer look at the person belonging to the oversized sweater. There was a flash of green eyes, dark circles, and a few freckles dotted along the nose. They gave a halfhearted, confused wave and for a brief moment, Craig wondered who the neighbor was. But the moment quickly passed and instead of waving back, he sped off in the direction of his best friend Clyde's house for the last time before their senior year began.

* * *

"So," Token started as he settled comfortably on the sofa between Clyde and Craig, "your new neighbors finally moved in? That's awesome!"

"I guess." Craig replied in a monotone voice, as per usual.

Clyde reached into the bowl of chips resting dangerously close to the edge of the coffee table before them. "Aren't you curious about them?" he asked, popping a few into his mouth. "You said the guy you saw looked about our age. Maybe he's cool!"

Craig shrugged. "Maybe he sucks."

"Yeah, but how would you know if you don't talk to him? He could be nice!" Token added, the genuine pep in his voice almost enough to make Craig reconsider how much he cared. _Almost._

"Yeah, dude," Clyde said between munches, "you're overthinking this way too much."

Craig stopped scrolling through the endless sea of Netflix shows and turned to Clyde with an incredulous look. "I'm not thinking about it _at all_!"

A tense, awkward silence settled between the three of them for a moment. And then they burst out laughing.

They spent the next few hours watching a random assortment of movies and mindlessly snacking. When the credits of the final movie rolled, Craig pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. As the screen lit up his face, he winced at the sudden onslaught of light in the otherwise dark living room. It was just a few minutes before ten, and his father had enacted a strict 10:30 PM curfew on school nights. He really didn't want to go home yet, but since tomorrow was the first day of class, he supposed it was time to leave the sanctity and comfort of Clyde’s couch.

"I have to head home now. I'll see you guys at school tomorrow?" he asked as he started heading towards the door, not really waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, goodnight, dude!” Clyde shouted behind him.

“Drive safe!” Token managed to add, just a mere second before Craig closed the door and ventured into the night.

* * *

Once Craig pulled back into his driveway, he immediately parked and shut off his car. The remaining heat quickly faded and the frigid air began to wrap around his long fingers as he gingerly pulled the aux cord out of his phone. Grabbing the rest of his things, he got out of the car and ambled up the walkway towards his front door. His hand hovered over the silver door knob, but didn’t quite make contact. For some reason, he felt compelled to turn around and look at the house across the street.

The boxes in the driveway were now gone, likely stacked high in various rooms of the house waiting to be unpacked. His gaze trailed across the front of the house, searching for any signs of life, and he noticed that every room was dark save for just one upstairs. He could see the soft flickering glow of a television through the uncovered window. The hues shifted from white to blue to black in an arrhythmic fashion, and he couldn’t help but stare at it for a little while. He was so mesmerized that he almost didn’t notice when a shadow momentarily obscured the light in the window. It was gone in a flash, but he could tell by the shape of the hair that the shadow had belonged to the guy he’d seen—and subsequently ignored—earlier. 

Craig contemplated this a moment longer before shrugging his shoulders and letting himself into his house.

_Nope, still don’t care._


	2. 02

Craig slowly navigated his car through the small student parking lot, carefully avoiding collision. Once he found a spot to park, he cut the engine and replaced the aux cord in his phone with earbuds. He scrolled through his music for a while until he found something worth playing before setting his phone down on his lap. A distant roll of thunder momentarily drowned out the soft music playing through his headphones, and he took a moment to contemplate his surroundings. 

Dozens of students with new clothes and new expectations walked past his car towards the main entrance of the school. He’d never seen the appeal in buying new clothes for an occasion other than growing out of old ones, and even when that happened, he just bought the same things sized up. His wardrobe consisted mainly of three types of items, save for a few outliers here and there. He wore hoodies: black or dark blue; t-shirts: grey or white; and jeans: black, grey, or blue. Today he’d opted for the dark blue hoodie, grey t-shirt, and black jeans combo. Craig dressed as consistently as a background character in a cartoon, and he liked it that way.

He let himself people-watch for a few more minutes before finally gathering his things and stepping out of the car. Looking towards the overcast morning sky, he held out his hand and felt thick droplets of rain gently land on his palm. The rain felt nice and the day was particularly warm for September—two things that couldn’t help but put a little smile on Craig’s face. He looked down at his phone to check the time and his brief moment of blissfulness faded when he realized he’d indulged his introversion a little too long. As quickly as he could without running, he wove through parked cars and fellow stragglers towards the building.

As he entered the hallway, he was immediately accosted by the deafening sound of a million conversations at once. No amount of thunder or music could ever win out over hordes of students speaking simultaneously, and Craig simply gave up on trying to tune them all out. He had lucked out the previous three years with a prime locker location near most of his classrooms and friends, but this year his luck had run dry. Not only was his locker tucked away in some dusty, forgotten corner of the building, but it was also on the complete opposite end of school. He was positive that the universe was punishing him for something, he just wasn’t exactly sure what.

“622… 623… 624.” Craig mumbled under his breath. “Finally.”

It had taken him much longer than expected to locate his locker, especially because it was in a part of the building he almost never had to be in. He knew it was very likely that he was going to be late for his first class now, and any semblance of a good mood he had earlier dissipated with each and every turn of the combination lock. Once the locker was open, he quickly began filing his things away. As he grabbed what he needed for his first two classes, he noticed someone hurriedly approaching the locker directly to the left of his. He didn’t even have to turn his head to know who it was. Even though he’d only seen it once yesterday, he’d recognize that disheveled blond hair anywhere.

Craig paused what he was doing and watched his neighbor out of the corner of his eye. Today he had switched out the olive green sweater for a darker grey one, and the collar peeking out this time was the color of moss. He traced along the profile of his face with his peripheral vision, noting a few things in the process. His neighbor had two small silver studs in his right ear that were nearly hidden by an errant tuft of hair, a slightly upturned nose, and long pale eyelashes. He was getting utterly lost in thought again, and it wasn’t until the blond turned to face him that he snapped back to reality.

“You…” his neighbor started with an air of uncertainty, “you live across the street from me, right?” The blond’s voice was both raspy and a little high pitched, which came as a surprise to Craig. He also sounded simultaneously tired _and_ wired somehow, as if he was a pendulum swinging wildly between manic and comatose. “I think… yeah, I saw you yesterday for sure. I tried to wave but… maybe you didn’t see me?”

Craig was not prepared to be confronted about that. Turning away, he quickly gave the materials in his hand a once-over before slamming the locker door shut a little harder than he expected to. He was suddenly feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and annoyance, and he couldn’t quite place where either emotion was coming from. The feelings that were bubbling deep in his chest made him uneasy, and he immediately turned the apathy up to eleven.

“I saw you,” he replied flatly.

“Oh. I was just… I thought I should introduce myself real quick? I’m Tweek—”

The first bell of the morning rang.

“And _I’m_ late. Thanks for that.”

Craig swore he could feel Tweek’s gaze burning a hole through his back as he walked as fast as he could in the opposite direction, middle finger in the air.

* * *

As the bell dismissed his class for lunch, Craig slumped over and laid his head on the surface of his desk. It was as though there was some sort of negative energy hanging over him that he just couldn’t shake. He hadn’t been able to pay attention during the previous eighty minutes of English, which was notably his favorite class and one of the only ones he actually looked forward to. If it weren’t for the syllabus outlining each lesson, he’d be totally fucked because he couldn’t remember a single solitary word the teacher had said. 

“Dude, you coming?” A voice called from the doorway.

He couldn’t see who was talking to him, but he could pick that voice out of a crowd in a heartbeat. Craig lifted his head to find Clyde grinning like an idiot and walking over to his desk. There were times that Craig wished he could be more like Clyde—an excitable guy with a big heart and even bigger emotions. They were virtually polar opposites in personality, but their friendship had worked just fine for the past decade and Craig hoped that it would continue like that for many years to come.

“What are you doing here?” Craig asked, trying and failing to sound a little more enthusiastic to see him.

“Picking you up for lunch, dude!” Clyde smiled, practically bouncing. The man loved food more than life itself, and sometimes Craig wished he could be excited about _anything_ the way his best friend got excited about a damn meal.

“Oh, okay. Let’s go.”

By the time they finally reached the cafeteria, most of the regular crew was already there. He saw Token, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman already seated at their usual table, chatting away and eagerly digging into their lunches. His stomach dropped a little when he noticed Tweek, comfortably seated beside Token, laughing about something Craig was sure he wouldn’t find funny at all. Suddenly any appetite he may have had was gone.

_Fuck._

“C’mon, let’s get in line!” 

“You go ahead. I’m not hungry.” 

Clyde frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He watched as Clyde shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to press Craig any further. As Clyde happily ambled towards the lunch line, Craig diverted paths and begrudgingly walked over to the table. He lifted his long legs over the bench and took a seat next to Tweek without saying so much as a word to anyone. The mood immediately plummeted as he sat down, as though his mere presence had sucked the life out of everyone around him.

After a long, awkward pause that seemed to drag on forever, Tweek finally broke the silence as he halfheartedly stabbed at his salad with a plastic fork. “Look… I’m sorry if I made you late this morning. I mean, I’m not even really sure what happened? But I really didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Okay.”

Another moment of silence hung over the table like a dark cloud. With an uncomfortable edge to his voice, Stan spoke up. “Dude… don’t be a dick.”

“I’m being a dick?”

“Yeah, dude,” Kyle added, “you kind of are.”

“How am I being a dick? I said ‘okay’.”

Kyle held his sandwich in one hand and gestured towards Tweek with the other. “I heard the story and it sounds like you were going to be late regardless of him trying to talk to you. You not accepting an apology _you don’t even deserve_ makes you a dick.”

Frustrated with the conversation, Craig brought both of his palms to his face. Who the hell was Tweek to tell _his_ friends about what happened? He let out a heavy, frustrated sigh and dragged his hands down his cheeks until the tips of his fingers met the bridge of his nose. A few deep breaths later, he placed his hands firmly on the surface of the table and said, “I’m out.”

“Dude, Craig, seriously,” Cartman interjected between mouthfuls of breaded chicken nuggets, “you’re being so fuckin’ lame.”

He simply did not have it in him to deal with any of this. He didn’t even know what _this_ all was. Craig felt like he was losing his mind over something so miniscule, and he did not want to engage with any of them right now. Since there was no longer a point to his presence in the cafeteria, he grabbed his belongings and exited through the large double doors without another word.

* * *

Craig breathed a sigh of relief as his calculus class ended. Forgoing the formality of using his folders, he unceremoniously shoved all his classwork and notes into his backpack. He’d retrieved it from his locker after leaving the cafeteria so he wouldn’t have to run into Tweek at the end of the day. At this point, he would carry his backpack to the ends of the earth if it meant never having to talk to him again.

_Just one more class and I can go home_.

His last class of the day was an hour long study hall, and it would be nice and boring— _just_ the way he liked it. As he walked into the classroom, the teacher quietly directed him to take an available seat so as not to disturb the other students who were already studying. Craig chose a desk in the far back of the classroom closest to the windows. They were cracked open ever so slightly, and the cool breeze that drifted in gently blew about the black locks of hair that brushed against the bridge of his nose. It felt nice, and maybe he’d be able to relax a little.

As he settled in with the intention of revisiting the English lesson he’d been unable to focus on earlier, most of the other students filed in and found their seats. About fifteen minutes of unadulterated silence passed before the door to the classroom opened again. Craig’s gaze slowly drifted from his homework to see who the latecomer was, and a lump formed in his throat as he watched an apologetic Tweek hand in a late pass and take the only empty seat left—the one right beside him. 

Craig did his best to ignore him. He knew he wouldn’t have the concentration to study anymore, so opened his agenda and started filling out due dates according to the syllabus from each of his classes. Order and routine were things that he liked—things he could _understand_ —and it calmed him down some to focus on them. With each new due date recorded, he could feel the noise in his head die down a little bit more. He’d almost achieved a perfect mental silence when a new sound started to pick up, and it wasn’t coming from the depths of his frazzled mind. 

It was coming from beside him.

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap, tap, tap._

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two things that put him on edge. The first was Tweek’s right leg bouncing violently under his desk. He’d never seen someone whose restlessness moved at mach speed, and it made him uneasy to watch. 

_Tap, tap._

_Tap._

_Tap, tap, tap, tap._

The second was the chaotic way that his left hand was swinging his pen back and forth, emitting a deafening, arrhythmic _tap_ each time it thrashed against the surface of his desk. It was as if the universe had curated this horrible experience specifically for Craig, and before he knew what hit him, he was opening his mouth to speak.

“Can you just shut the _fuck_ up?”

Tweek’s pen slipped out of his hand and clattered onto the desk. It rolled off the edge and tumbled to the floor, but he didn’t move to pick it up. Instead, he slowly turned his head and looked at Craig, a mix of unidentifiable emotions laced with embarrassment written on his face. Everyone else in the class had their eyes on them now, and Craig could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he heard the teacher call his name.

“Tucker. Office, _now_.”

There was no point in arguing. He silently gathered his things, exited the classroom, and made his way down to the office to pick up a shiny new detention slip for this afternoon.

* * *

Craig managed to dodge the teacher overseeing detention and quickly made his way out of one of the back entrances. He ducked under each of the large windows dotted along the back of the building so he wouldn’t be seen, a somewhat difficult task for someone towering a few inches over six feet. Sure, he’d have to deal with the consequences of skipping detention tomorrow—likely with another detention—but he didn’t really feel like dealing with it today.

He was on a stealth mission to reach the small abandoned loading dock behind the school. It was a somewhat popular place for students skipping class to hang out and smoke, and that was exactly his plan. Craig was hoping that nobody else would be there so he could wallow in his misery alone, but as he approached his destination, he saw another familiar blond sitting on the concrete step with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 

Kenny McCormick wasn’t the _worst_ company he could think of, at least.

In fact, they shared a strange sort of camaraderie with one another. Craig loved Clyde and Token, even if he never expressed as much in so many words, but he found it difficult to be vulnerable with them. Kenny felt pretty much the same way about his own group of friends. And while Craig and Kenny didn’t hang out much, when they did, they talked through issues and spilled secrets that they would never share with anyone but each other.

“Didn’t feel like going home?” Kenny asked, his words slightly muffled by the cigarette hanging between his lips. 

“No,” he shook his head as he sat down next to him, “skipping detention.”

The blond smiled. “Seems a little counterproductive. Then again, what’s one detention for another, am I right?”

“Shut up.”

He took out his own pack of smokes and put one in his mouth. Kenny handed over his old, scuffed-to-hell-and-back silver Zippo and Craig set fire to the unfiltered end of his cigarette. As he exhaled a thick stream of smoke, he studied the lighter in his hand for a few moments. That Zippo had seen a _lot_ of parties and started more than its fair share of unsanctioned bonfires in the woods outside of town. He’d always had one hell of a time at every gathering that lighter had been a part of, and he briefly wondered if it was some sort of good luck charm as he finally handed it back.

As Kenny gently placed it into the left pocket of his faded orange coat, he turned towards Craig and addressed the elephant in the room. “So,” he asked, “what exactly crawled up your ass today?”

“Excuse me? Nothing has crawled up my ass.”

“C’mon, dude. You were out of it during English, you were being bitchy during lunch, and something clearly happened between then and now that landed you in detention. Consider your ass an official crawl zone.”

Craig let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I’m annoyed or… _something_. I don’t know why and it’s driving me crazy that I can’t figure it out. It’s like I have an itch in my brain that I can’t scratch.”

“Walk me through your day and we’ll figure it out together.”

“Well...” Craig recounted the events of the day between long drags of his cigarette. He told Kenny about everything from the locker incident to the short time he’d spent in study hall before getting kicked out and sent to the principal. The longer he talked about it in great detail, the more he became aware of just how embarrassingly _childish_ it all was. He knew there was no reason to be this upset about any of it, and his sudden loss of reason and logic bothered him beyond anything else. “...and now I’m here.”

Kenny stayed silent for a moment, carefully considering each and every word of Craig’s lengthy monologue. “So your problem is with that new kid?”

“I guess.”

“Why, though?”

“I don’t know.” Craig answered honestly. “That’s what’s bothering me.”

The blond finished off his second cigarette of the afternoon and tossed the remnants towards the expanse of grass that lined the edge of the concrete. “I’m thinking,” he started as he grabbed another one and promptly set it ablaze, “that maybe it’s not annoyance with _him_ that you’re feeling.”

“What?”

“Like, he’s clearly the source of whatever you’re feeling, sure. But he hasn’t really _done_ anything to warrant your animosity, so I don’t think you’re annoyed with him. I think you’re annoyed with yourself.”

Craig thought about that for a minute. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Kenny let out a little laugh, knowing all too well that what he was about to say next was going to just irritate Craig further. “I’m just saying, and I could be wrong, but… maybe your annoyance stems from the fact that you like what you see and you don’t know how to feel about that.”

They could have heard a pin drop in the dead silence that fell between them. Craig turned to Kenny with an absolutely _dumbfounded_ expression. “Are… are you implying that I think he’s _hot_?”

“Your words, not mine,” Kenny smiled as he replied, bracing for impact as Craig reached over and not-so-gently punched his upper arm. 

“I’m not gay, so I don’t see how that could possibly be the case.”

“You don’t need to be gay in order to find another guy attractive. And even if you were gay, thinking someone is hot doesn’t have to mean anything. I mean, I think you’re pretty fuckin’ hot but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna go book a hotel room or treat you to a five course meal.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Keep dreaming, McCormick. You couldn’t afford it, anyway.”

“What, the hotel, the meal, or you?”

“All of the above.” Craig laughed, feeling a little more relaxed.

“Look, all I’m saying is that whatever _is_ going on with you is maybe worth exploring,” the blond started as he leaned back on his elbows and sprawled out his legs. “You don’t always have to default to apathy.”

“Who died and made you the resident fucking therapist?”

Kenny laughed. “Isn’t that the nature of our friendship? Smoke breaks and bitch fests?”

“Yeah,” Craig sighed, looking up towards the darkening sky, “I do appreciate your honesty. Even when you’re wrong.”

“Oh, what _ever_ . And in the spirit of honesty… you _really_ need to go and apologize to the kid, dude. You have absolutely _no_ business being this much of a diva.”

“Hard pass.”

“I’m serious, Tucker. Even Cartman, who by all accounts is still kind of an asshole even after years of therapy, apologizes most of the time when he knows he’s fucked up. So think about it like this: do you want to swallow your pride and apologize or do you want to be even worse than Eric Cartman?”

Craig knew Kenny was right. 

In fact, Kenny was somehow almost _always_ right about everything. Sometimes Craig found it incredibly bewildering that the blond was so intelligent, especially because he did absolutely _asinine_ shit like throwing himself off buildings and setting things on fire in order to hide it from everyone else. He knew he should listen to him, not just about apologizing but _all_ of it, but Kenny was right about another thing: Craig was _not_ ready to deal with the implications of everything they’d just talked about.

“Oh, would you look at the time. I have to go.”

It was Kenny’s turn to roll his eyes as Craig stood up and stomped out the smoldering remains of his last cigarette. “You are really something else.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Craig said nonchalantly, offering his hand to Kenny to help him up. “You need a ride home?”

Kenny accepted and let Craig help lift him from his comfortable spot on the concrete. He brushed off the dirt and debris from the back of his jeans and nodded. “Yeah, I could use one,” he trailed off for a moment, checking the time on his phone. “Actually, can you give me a ride to work instead? It’s not really worth going home for twenty minutes and then catching a bus down to the shop.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Craig replied as they started circling back around the building towards the student parking lot. “When does your shift end?”

“Around nine, why?”

“I can pick you up later if you want.”

“That’d help a lot, yeah.” Kenny smiled. “Thank you _so_ much for making sure this delicate little princess doesn’t have to walk home alone at night.” 

Craig let out an amused snort. “Oh, _fuck_ you.”

“Okay, at which hotel should I book the room?”

Craig threw up his middle finger for the second time that day, Kenny laughing happily behind him.

* * *

Tweek Tweak was a lot of things. 

He was smart, ambitious, determined, and incredibly anxious at all times. Even though he was medicated for his anxiety and ADHD, and even though he saw a therapist once a week, that still didn't stop him from being a magnet for stress. He'd been pacing around his bedroom for the last hour and a half since the bus had dropped him off, trying to figure out why his day had gone the way it did. It seemed as though that, in only twenty-four hours of living in South Park, he'd already made something of an enemy. 

He couldn't rationalize _why_ his new neighbor seemed to dislike him so much, and because he couldn't find a logical answer, it was incredibly easy for him to fall down a rabbithole of what-ifs. He felt bad, of course, if he had done something to upset the other man. He knew he'd managed to make both Craig and himself late for class, but even then, was that really his fault? No, it couldn't be. He'd watched him approach his locker only moments before he himself did. Was his nervous pen-tapping annoying? Yes, probably. But there was no reason for him to react so strongly. Was there? No. Unless Craig had sensory issues. Tweek shook his head. No, that still doesn't excuse being an asshole. 

"Gah!" he exclaimed out of frustration, fighting the urge to pull at his hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do?!”

And then he heard a car door slam. 

Before he knew what hit him, Tweek was racing down his stairwell and out of his front door at the speed of light. He bolted across the street, barely taking a second to look both ways, before nearly crashing his entire body into the back of his neighbor’s car. Craig stumbled backwards a few steps out of sheer surprise—the first real display of emotion that Tweek had seen from him all day.

"You..." Tweek started and stopped, doubling over and desperately trying to catch his breath.

"Me." 

"There was no reason for you to be so... so rude earlier!" he managed to say between exasperated breaths. "All you had to do was ask me to stop tapping my pen and I would have!"

Craig slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Okay."

Tweek's hands started to shake out of frustration, and he balled them into fists to try and get them to stop. It was no use, though. "I demand... I demand an apology!"

Craig thought about what Kenny had said earlier. That if he didn’t apologize to Tweek, he’d _really_ be an asshole. He knew this was objectively true, but it was as if there was some sort of unseen force causing him to double down and completely throw rationality to the wind.

"No."

"No?" Tweek replied softly, sounding more confused than anything else. He honestly wasn’t expecting or prepared to meet such resistance. "I mean—no! No to your no! I deserve an... ah! Apology!"

"And I deserve an all expenses paid vacation in the Bahamas. But we can’t all get what we want."

A flash of anger crossed Tweek's face, his green eyes going dark for a moment. "Fine, whatever!" he yelled, his voice tinged with exasperation, as he turned his heels and ran back across the street.

Craig watched as the blond stormed up the walkway to his front door and turned around to face him. As he stood in the middle of his doorway, he returned the middle finger gesture that Craig himself had given Tweek earlier that day. Then he slammed the door so hard that the hanging plants on his porch started to swing wildly back and forth. He didn't know exactly what he felt in that moment, but it rested comfortably somewhere between surprised and impressed. There was another strange, creeping emotion alongside it, but Craig chose to ignore it.

"Huh," was all he managed to say before the sky opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. 03

A full week had passed since the first day of class, and Craig couldn’t help but notice that his new routine was starting to take a toll. He’d stopped using his locker completely, opting to bring seven hours worth of textbooks and binders with him everywhere he went. The back pain that ensued was an inconvenience, but he’d decided that the discomfort was a small price to pay in exchange for being able to avoid the source of his problems altogether. He hadn’t stepped foot into the cafeteria again, either. By the third day of skipping lunch, he’d started to receive an onslaught of texts from several different people—all of them ranging anywhere from concerned to displeased to just plain annoying to read.

Clyde was worried that Craig wasn’t eating. 

He was, in true Clyde fashion, concerned about entirely the wrong thing, but his heart was in the right place—as it almost always was. Craig assured him that he wasn’t skipping any meals, just that he was eating them elsewhere. When his best friend asked where he was eating so he could join him, he’d declined to tell him. He truly felt bad about doing that to Clyde, but he knew he’d be happier in the cafeteria with the rest of their friends. The last thing he wanted to do was drag everyone else down.

Token was upset with Craig, full stop. 

Token didn’t go as far as to tell him he was being a dick, but he had expressed both assertively and eloquently that he did  _ not _ agree with the way Craig was handling whatever issues he had with Tweek. He had always been the mother hen of their group, and while Craig could appreciate his firm but kindhearted honesty, he knew he didn’t have anything to say that Token would like to hear. So he just left him on read.

Cartman, Stan, and Kyle added him to a group chat.

Stan and Kyle took turns trying to figure out exactly what happened. They were mostly cordial, but forced niceties didn’t stop either of them from calling him an asshole for the way he had acted. Craig didn’t know why either of them even cared about him  _ or  _ the new kid, but they were never ones to be shy about inserting themselves into everyone else’s business. Cartman interjected here and there saying how cool it would be if Craig and Tweek got into a real fight, but the whole interaction just left Craig wanting to punch Eric instead.

Kenny just texted him a quick  _ see you soon, bitch _ on day four of skipping lunch.

Before he even had the chance to stab last night’s leftovers with a fork, Kenny had shown up to the loading dock behind school. Craig was nothing if not predictable, especially if someone knew where to look. And for better or worse, the only one privy to that information was Kenny. They sat there quietly as Craig shared some of his lunch with Kenny and finished off a couple of cigarettes for dessert. He was a little surprised when the blond showed up again on days five and six, but he wasn’t going to turn away the only friendly company he seemed to have.

It was now Wednesday again, and Craig was admittedly a little worn out as he exited the school and headed towards his newfound lunch spot. Today Kenny was there before he was, sitting on the concrete step with his orange parka falling halfway down his arms. He seemed rather bouncy, as though he was excited about something, while he fiddled around with his pack of cigarettes. When he finally noticed Craig approaching, he eagerly waved him over with a huge toothy grin plastered on his face.

“I hope you’re ready for some good news!” Kenny happily greeted him as Craig tossed down his backpack before sitting down himself. 

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope.”

Craig smiled faintly, looking through the contents of his bag. “Before you go on about whatever it is, this is for you.” 

He pulled out two bagged lunches and handed one to Kenny. He knew that he was on the free lunch plan at school, and ever since he’d been joining Craig out by the loading dock, he’d been skipping going to the cafeteria entirely. Craig supposed that some of Clyde’s mannerisms had rubbed off on him over the years—at least the one that made him concerned if someone he cared about wasn’t eating enough. It was the least he could do, he figured, to pay him back for going out of his way to be there for him.

Kenny took the bag into his hands and eyed it quizzically, as though he was confused by its mere presence. “You sure this is okay, dude?”

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I just mean, like, Laura won’t be pissed that you used extra food or anything?”

Craig shot him a glare. “First of all, don’t call my mom ‘Laura’. And second of all, she has a million other things to be pissed off about that don’t involve a few missing slices of bread and some carrot sticks. I doubt she’d even notice.”

The blond seemed to accept this answer as he unrolled the top of the bag and pulled out a ham and cheese sandwich. He took a decently big bite and carefully chewed it before replying. “Thanks, dude. I dunno, at my house, things are a little… scarce, I guess. You know how it is.”

“I do,” Craig said, his tone leaning towards apologetic, “I just… yeah.”

“Yeah.” Kenny agreed, taking another bite. “But there’s no use in dwelling on that negative shit when I have some awesome fuckin’ info on upcoming events!”

“Alright, consider me mildly intrigued.”

“I’ve received word that the first party of the year is finally happening Saturday night in the woods out by Stark’s Pond. Classic bonfire and booze.”

Craig thought about it for a moment while he munched on some carrot sticks. On one hand, he truly did enjoy bonfire nights. Even though he wasn’t the type to insert himself into the heart of a party, he liked the little break from reality that they provided. On the other hand, all he’d wanted to do lately was just avoid everyone and everything. Save for Kenny, he guessed, but Kenny would just be one of dozens of students getting drunk and having fun. He wasn’t even sure he was capable of having a good time in his current state.

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon, dude. It’s exactly what you need. Hell, I need it, too.”

Craig snorted. “You go to every party whether you need it or not.”

“That’s fair,” the blond laughed, “but I mean it. Shit’s been… rough lately, if I’m being completely honest. For  _ both _ of us. And if you’re not there, who am I gonna smoke and talk shit with while things inevitably get crazy?”

“One of your other friends? Nobody is going to miss me if I’m not there.” Craig offered.

“Nah, you know it’s not like that. You’re the only one I can get real with.”

“Same.” Craig replied. And he meant it.

“That settles it, then!” Kenny set his half-eaten sandwich down on the concrete beside him and slapped the top of his thighs with both hands for dramatic effect. “You’re coming to this party even if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming.”

* * *

Saturday morning arrived without incident, and Craig awoke to the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs. His parents almost never fought unless it was about him, and he buried his face under his navy blue comforter with a heavy sigh. He started counting down from ten in his head and—like clockwork—on  _ one, _ his father burst through his bedroom door without so much as a knock.

“Craig!” Thomas shouted almost immediately, not too loudly, but with enough volume that it commanded his attention. 

“That’s me.” Craig replied, voice muffled by his blanket.

“Don’t be a smartass, Craig. Would you mind explaining to me how you ended up getting detention on your first day of school? And then maybe you can explain why you  _ skipped _ that detention and got another as punishment?”

“I don’t know.” Craig heard the sound of weighty footsteps approaching as Thomas walked over and took a seat on the edge of his bed. In one swift motion, he grabbed the offending comforter and swung it backwards with force. He winced a little at the sudden removal of warmth and sat upright to face his father. Rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his dark blue eyes, he opened his mouth to speak again. “It just kind of happened.”

“It just kind of happened? What does that even mean?”

Craig sighed. “Someone was being annoying so I told him to shut up. And then I, uh, forgot that I had detention. So I didn’t go.”

“You forgot?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Thomas started thoughtfully, “well–don’t do it again. And stop convincing your mother to hide these things from me. I only found out because I noticed the detention slips in a pile of junk mail waiting to be thrown out.”

Craig hadn’t even talked to his mother. He’d just assumed that the school had called his parents the day it happened and they chose not to confront him about it. But that was beside the point, and he knew there was no use in arguing. “I won’t do it again.”

“That’s more like it.”

His father promptly stood up and left, seemingly satisfied with the absolutely pointless discussion that they’d just had. Craig knew he didn’t actually care whether or not he’d gotten a detention, much less skipped it, but he suspected that Thomas sometimes wanted a reason to play at being a concerned father. It was something he was more than used to, and it was a minor inconvenience at worst.

He took a moment to stretch out on his bed before reaching for his phone. Checking the time, he realized it was only half past eleven in the morning. Craig liked to indulge his inner night owl, especially on weekends, and he normally wouldn’t wake up until well into the afternoon. He eyed his unmade bed one last time and considered laying back down to sleep for a few more hours, but ultimately decided against it. 

A cool breeze drifted in and tickled the bare skin of his arms, the sudden sensation drawing his gaze over towards the window he’d accidentally left open overnight. He stood up and ambled over with the intention of closing it, but something stopped him before he could. Peering through the blinds, he looked out at the house across the street. Tweek was sitting comfortably on his front porch steps, sandwiched between a large thermos and a stack of textbooks. Even from this distance, Craig could see his legs bouncing fervently as he studied, and he felt a prickle of anger radiate beneath his skin.

“Fuck you.” he grumbled under his breath, slamming the window shut so hard that he thought it might shatter.

* * *

Craig pulled his car into the small parking lot that preceded the entrance of the forest. There were about fourteen other cars already there, and he figured that there wouldn’t be too many more since most of the other partygoers had either carpooled or walked. He sat there for a few moments in the dark, listening to the low hum of music coming from deeper within the woods. There was still time to change his mind and go back home, opting for a quiet night in consisting of video games and working on his stupid novel idea. He sighed deeply, noting that he’d been doing that a lot lately.

_ No, Kenny’s right. I need this. _

He cut the engine and stepped out of the car, a little relieved that he had about a ten minute walk to prepare himself before he’d reach the bonfire clearing. Craig had never been that great with people to begin with, but it felt as though he’d completely lost the ability to socialize between all of the avoidance and unanswered texts. A party like this would be good for him, or so he hoped. It would give him a chance to reconnect with his friends and, as Kenny had put it so eloquently earlier in the day, remove the giant stick from his ass. He felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards slightly as a smile began to form.

And then he felt something run into him.  _ Hard. _

“Craig, my main fuckin’ man!”

Before he could even  _ think  _ of a response, his entire body was enveloped between two big arms. He felt his feet leave the ground for a moment before being gently lowered back onto the grass. Even if he hadn’t recognized the voice right away, there was only one person he knew who had the build and the strength to lift his own six-foot-three frame into the air.

“Hey, Clyde.”

Clyde hugged him again. “I’ve missed you so much, bro. I know it’s only been about a week since we last hung out but we usually at least talk everyday. You… you haven’t been avoiding me, have you?”

“No,” Craig lied, “I haven’t. Not intentionally, anyway.” 

Clyde frowned. “Really? Because it really feels like you have been, dude. Token said you haven’t been responding to his texts at all and we don’t see you at lunch! I really don’t know what happened with that new kid, but if he hurt you, dude…” Clyde paused for a moment, making fists with both hands and punching the air, “I’ll kick his ass. I’ll kick his ass so hard he ends up in space. I’d do that for you, bro.”

Craig couldn’t help but laugh, but the tender moment between them was followed by a pang of guilt. “I know you would, Clyde. But you don’t have to because he didn’t do anything. I was just being a dick.”

“Glad to hear you actually admit it,” another familiar voice called out. “Even though you left me on read all week, I’m happy to see you’ve been reflecting.” They turned around to see Token approaching them, smiling warmly. “I know it wasn’t exactly a fight, but I hate when there’s tension between us.”

“Me too. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Token said as he gently patted Craig on the back. “Now let’s get going before we miss all the action!”

Clyde sandwiched himself in between both Token and Craig, wrapping one arm around each of their shoulders. “Man, I’m so glad that I get to be with my two best bros in the universe tonight!”

As the three of them made their way deeper into the woods, the cacophony of music, screaming, and laughter grew louder and louder. Once they had finally reached their destination, however, the group split up before Craig had a chance to even survey the scene. Clyde was immediately plucked away by some of his football teammates, no doubt to do keg stands and hype everyone up. Token was called over by his girlfriend Nichole, who was waiting for him with a drink and a kiss. 

Craig was alone again, and this time not by choice. But that didn’t matter. He came here to at least  _ try _ and have a decent time, and he resolved to do just that. With that thought in mind, he started walking towards the billowing bonfire in search of something to drink. He waded through dozens of people drinking and dancing to pop music he didn’t care for until he saw someone he at least knew well enough to approach.

Kyle noticed him before he had the chance to say anything, greeting him with a faint smile and a wave. “Hey, Craig. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Kenny convinced me.”

“Oh,” he replied somewhat quizzically, “have you two been hanging out a lot or something? Is that why he hasn’t been coming to lunch either?”

Sometimes Craig forgot that neither his nor Kenny’s friends were aware that they had any sort of friendship outside of school. He supposed it was more apparent now given the circumstances—and, of course, the fact that they’d been hanging out more in the past week than they had in the past three years. It was a little hard to not take the look of slight shock on Kyle’s face personally, though, especially because the redhead really had a knack for making people feel inferior.

“Yeah, I guess. We talk sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Um, did you need a drink or something?” Kyle asked, gesturing to the red cup in his hand. 

“That’d be nice.”

Kyle smiled and motioned for him to follow. “Stan and some guys from the football team set everything up over here,” he explained as he led them to a folding table stacked high with solo cups and alcohol. There were a few kegs next to the table, which Craig opted for instead of hard liquor. Kyle watched him grab a cup and fill it with some beer before continuing. “Well, now that you know where this is, you should be set for the night, right? Or did you need anything else?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Cool. I’m gonna go find Stan now, then.”

Craig just nodded and watched Kyle disappear into the crowd. He took a sip of beer and headed back towards the bonfire, hoping to run into someone he knew who wasn’t already busy and could actually hold a conversation with him. However, he knew deep down the chances of that were nearly zero, because it seemed as though everyone around him had already found their place at the party. He kept awkwardly circling the crowd, trying his hardest to find the right mindset to enjoy it all. A song he didn’t _ entirely  _ hate started playing as the last one faded out, and he finally felt like he could relax.

And then he saw Tweek.

He was sitting on one of the six or so lawn chairs that encircled the bonfire, his legs crossed and his arms folded across his stomach with a drink in his hand. The bright orange glow radiating from the fire illuminated him in such a perfect way, making each unruly tuft of blond hair look like flames of their own. Craig’s gaze traveled from his hair all the way down his body to the dark brown work boots, slowly taking note of everything in between. The grey jeans, the green-and-black flannel, the thin silver necklace that gleamed as each spark flew off the fire, it was all so—

_ No! Fuck, I’m not doing this shit. _

Craig turned on his heels and walked away as quickly as his long legs could carry him. As he reached the outskirts of the party, he noticed a familiar orange parka out of the corner of his eye. Without saying so much as a word, he grabbed Kenny by the arm and started dragging him along deeper into the woods. It didn’t take much convincing to get him to follow, so after a second or two, he broke free from Craig’s grip and matched his pace on his own. Once he was satisfied with the distance between him and Tweek, Craig stopped walking and sat down by a tree. Kenny immediately followed suit.

“So… any chance I can get an explanation, or…?”

Craig pulled out a cigarette from his pack and held out his free hand. “Can I borrow your lighter first? Then I’ll explain.”

“Oh, sure, dude.” Kenny reached into his pocket and handed him an unfamiliar lighter. It was green and looked brand new, as if it had been bought for this occasion. 

“What is this?”

“A lighter? Are you okay, dude?”

Craig shook his head. “I know it’s a lighter. I meant, like, where is the Zippo?”

“ _ Oh! _ My dumb ass left it at the shop yesterday by accident. I had to buy this one to tide me over til my next shift.”

Something between a grumble and a sigh escaped his lungs as he realized that the Zippo was effectively missing in action. He knew it was stupid, assigning someone else’s property as a good luck charm, but he couldn’t help but feel like the night was about to get a whole lot worse. “Fuck, man.”

“I know. I love that thing, too. I nearly freaked out when I realized it wasn’t in my pocket until one of the mechanics let me know it was there.”

Craig finally lit his cigarette and took a long drag before handing the interloping lighter back to Kenny. “Can I... ask you a serious question?”

“Of course, dude. I figured you didn’t bring me out here just to shoot the shit.” Kenny smiled, lighting up his own smoke.

“How exactly did you... figure out that you were also attracted to guys? Or attracted to  _ anyone _ , for that matter.”

“Hm,” the blond started carefully, “that’s a good question, actually. I guess with girls it was easier, y’know, with how much access I had to porno mags as a kid. I’ve always loved me some titties.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Christ.”

“What? I’m just being honest!” Kenny laughed, continuing. “With guys, it was a little different, I guess. You… you, uh, remember when I was in foster care back in seventh and eighth grade?”

He nodded without comment. It was right after Kenny had returned to South Park freshman year that they first reconnected on a deeper level, and Craig was the only other soul in their little mountain town who knew exactly what he had gone through while he was away. They spoke about it once—and only once—and it was the one thing neither of them ever brought up again. Until now, at least.

“Well, as much as that experience sucked major balls, there were some good things that happened. He was one of them.” Kenny’s words were dripping with a warm fondness, a surprising change from the last time Craig had heard about this period of his life. “At that point I didn’t think I was bisexual, but when I first met him, he was just… so  _ hot _ . Or, at least, as hot as you can be as an awkward fourteen year old. And then one thing led to another and I slept with him as easily as I had with a girl.”

“And that solidified it for you?”

“Pretty much, yeah. For me, at least, that experience helped me figure out that I just kinda like everyone, regardless of their equipment.”

“Huh.”

“I take it you’ve been thinking more about what exactly crawled up your ass last week?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Craig reached over and gently pushed Kenny’s shoulder, careful not to push too hard lest he accidentally drop his cigarette. “But yeah, I have been. It’s been impossible not to and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Dude, trust me. I’ve been there. But like I told you before, attraction doesn’t always have to mean anything.”

Craig paused for a moment before sighing. “I think in my case, it kind of has to.”

“How so?” 

“I’ve had two girlfriends in my life. They both asked me out, and I said yes because that’s what I thought I was supposed to do. I didn’t find either of them particularly attractive. Not that I thought they were ugly or anything, they just kind of  _ were _ . Like, they existed. I never did more than kiss or hold hands with either of them, and when they broke up with me, I didn’t care.”

Kenny started to get the picture. “And with Tweek…?”

“Every time I see him, I get infuriatingly  _ captivated _ by him. Not once in my life have I ever looked at a person and lost the ability to function like that. So it has to mean something, and yeah, I guess—as always—you were right. I don’t know how the fuck to feel about it.”

“Sounds like a crush to me.”

“Great. That’s fantastic.”

“Nothing wrong with having a crush on someone, dude.”

“It is when...” Craig paused, not sure if he should finish the thought.

“When it’s another guy?”

“I don’t mean it’s a bad thing in general. I guess I just wasn’t prepared to wake up one day and realize I might be gay.”

Kenny laughed and moved closer, patting Craig on the back. “Most people don’t. And it’s not the end of the world if you are. You’re still you, y’know?”

“Fuck, I’m really going to have to apologize now.” Craig mumbled under his breath, eliciting another laugh from the blond.

“No time like the present, yeah?”

Craig sighed and stood up, brushing the dirt and grass from his clothes. Kenny followed suit, temporarily removing his parka so he could shake out any leftover debris. The blond started to walk back towards the party but stopped short when he realized Craig wasn’t following. He stood there, half looking at Kenny and half looking at the trees surrounding him, seemingly unable to move.

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Tucker, come on, dude. It’s not that hard to apologize to someone, especially over some stupid shit like this.”

Craig thought about that for a moment. “Can’t I just be an avoidant dick for a while longer?”

Kenny smiled and grabbed his arm. “Nope.”

Just like how Craig had dragged Kenny all the way out into the woods, Kenny decided to return the favor and drag him right back to the party. The sounds of sticks breaking beneath their feet was soon drowned out by music as they got closer to the outskirts of the bonfire. Just as they were about to cross the threshold back into the party, a loud familiar voice called out and stopped them dead in their tracks.

“Hey! Hey everybody! Look at Tweek!” Cartman yelled, his voice laced with that antagonistic edge that it always seemed to have.

“Oh shit,” they both said in perfect unison, looking at each other with equal looks of concern. 

This time, Craig didn’t resist when Kenny pulled him forward into the party to see what was happening.


	4. 04

“He did it! You guys, seriously, look! Tweek fucking did it!”

Craig pushed through the crowd with determination, not giving a single damn about who or what he knocked over as he made his way towards the bonfire. Kenny trailed closely behind him, and they didn’t stop until they had front row seats to whatever freakshow Cartman thought he was running. It didn’t take long to locate the main attraction, and Craig’s heart sunk so far into his stomach that he was afraid it might leave his body completely, becoming nothing more than fertilizer for the forest floor.

Tweek was intoxicated—that much was painfully obvious. 

Seven red solo cups littered the area near his feet, and with every wobbly step he took, Craig could somehow hear the sharp crinkle of plastic over the music that was throbbing through the stereo speakers. The visual storytelling told him all he needed to know, and he felt a wave of anger begin to wash over him. Between the look of absolute smugness on Cartman’s face and the way Tweek was stumbling around, a bet had been made and Tweek fell hook, line, and sinker for it. Even if the blond had consumed the amount of alcohol Eric bet he couldn’t, that insufferable bastard in the red coat had won.

“Dude,” Kenny whispered, grabbing Craig’s sleeve, “we have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but if we don’t, Cartman will just keep egging him on.”

“Fuck it.”

_Don’t think, just do._

Craig shoved his own empty cup into Kenny’s unsuspecting hands before pushing Eric out of the way to try and get to Tweek. The blond was standing dangerously close to the crackling fire, swaying a bit as though he was trying to find his balance. He reached his arms out to grab him, but Tweek immediately pushed back with force. The recoil made him stumble backwards and lose his footing, causing him to nearly fall head first into the bonfire. Craig lunged forward and finally grabbed hold of him, dragging him as far away from the flames as he possibly could. It wasn’t without a fight, though, and Tweek steadied himself just enough to push him away once more.

“Would you just stop moving around for one fucking second?” Craig asked angrily, his raised voice leaving some people on edge and others on the edge of their seats.

Tweek let out a laugh laced with utter disbelief. “Oh, so _now_ you want to talk to me? You ten-foot-tall… _skyscraper_ son of a bitch! Fuck you!”

Craig grabbed hold of him again, this time wrapping his arms around Tweek from behind. He firmly grasped his wrists to try and hold him back from walking back towards the fire. “Actually, no. I _don’t_ want to talk to you. But you’re trying to fling yourself into an open flame, and I don’t want to be held liable for that!”

The blond thrust his arms outward and freed his thin wrists from Craig’s grip. He turned towards the crowd, noticing that nearly every partygoer was now an onlooker to their display. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you guys hear that? Because I have a condition where I can’t hear people who don’t apologize for their actions!”

“Oh shit! They’re gonna fight!” Eric yelled out, loving every single second of chaos that he’d wrought forth. “I’m seriously, you guys! It’s Tweek versus Craig!”

Kyle stepped forward and elbowed him in the side as hard as he could. “Shut the fuck up, Cartman.”

“Oh, right. Like I’m the only one excited about this. Look around, asshole!” Cartman retorted, gesturing vaguely at the audience around them. The redhead elbowed him again, this time hard enough to knock the drink out of Eric’s hand. “Dude, the _fuck_ ? What the hell is your problem, _Kahl_?”

“You are, fatass!” Kyle yelled loud enough to turn some of the attention on himself. “You always do this kind of shit and for no other reason than to satisfy your sick need for entertainment at everyone else’s expense!”

Craig shifted his gaze towards Kyle, who returned his stare with a knowing look. It took less than a second for it to click that he was providing a distraction, and Craig looked back at Tweek to figure out what to do next. He knew Tweek likely wouldn’t remember most of this the next morning, but he also knew that the longer they stayed, the more damage would be done to the way everyone perceived him. This wasn’t Tweek’s fault, it was Eric’s, and if anyone deserved the inevitable side-eyed looks and rumors that would sprout in the coming days, it was that asshole.

Without warning, he lifted Tweek up and wrapped his arms around his legs and shoulders as tightly as possible. “We’re leaving,” he mumbled, ignoring every kick, thrash, and protest he received in return.

“Put me down!” 

“No.” Craig replied flatly as he carried him out of the clearing, leaving everyone and everything behind.

Tweek flailed, trying desperately to break free from Craig’s firm grip. “I can… _gah_! I can walk just fine! I won’t run, so put me down!”

“I don’t care. I’m not putting you down.”

Tweek grumbled under his breath, resigning himself to the unfortunate situation that he’d managed to get himself into. He went limp and allowed himself to be carried all the way back to Craig’s car. It was well past midnight now, and the further they got away from the fire, the more the darkness consumed the town. Once they reached the parking lot, Craig shifted Tweek’s weight so he could hold him with one arm and open the passenger side door with the other. He all but threw Tweek inside, and once he was sure he wouldn’t get caught in the door when he closed it, he slammed it shut with enough force that some of his tension finally released.

As he slid his own body into the driver’s seat, he paused before turning on the car. He’d only had one drink, but it hadn’t even been half an hour since he’d finished it. A deep sigh escaped his lungs and he leaned back in his seat. “I can’t drive yet, so we’re just going to sit here until I can. Then I’ll take you home.”

Tweek fidgeted with his hands for a moment before turning towards Craig, his facial features twisted into an expression of absolute frustration. “How are you going to take me home? You don’t know where I live, and I’m not telling you!”

“ _What?_ You literally live across the street from me!”

The silence that befell them lasted only a second, but Craig could have sworn it felt like years. And then Tweek started laughing like he was losing his mind. “Oh, that’s right! You are so funny, you know that?”

Craig placed the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb, pinching it with as much intensity as the exasperation he felt. _Why._ Why was tonight the night—of _all_ nights—that he had to realize he was gay. And why was it the drunken mess in his passenger seat—of _all_ people—who managed to get under his skin enough to make him come to that realization. Craig looked to the sky for a moment and wondered if there was any sort of deity who made this happen, or if it was written in the stars somewhere as a cosmic fucking joke.

He wanted to think on it a little longer, but he was ripped from the safe confines of introspection when Tweek’s drunken laughter turned into choked sobs. Craig felt a somewhat muted sense of dread as he looked over to find thick tears rolling down the pale skin of Tweek’s face. The way his lithe body seemed to sputter with every hic and sob pricked at Craig’s skin like the needle of a tattoo gun. He badly wanted to try and make it stop, but he was never the right man for the job whenever it came to consoling the inconsolable.

“What’s wrong?” 

Tweek glared at him, his bright green eyes dulled by newly formed tears. “Why should I tell you? You don’t even care!”

“You know what? You’re right. I don’t care.”

“Exactly,” he replied softly, somewhere between a mumble and a whisper.

Craig looked at his phone to check the time and silently count the minutes until it was safe to drive. He found a good rhythm as numbers flashed and faded in his head, and after a little while, it became easier to tune out the breakdown that was taking place mere inches away. If Tweek wasn’t going to give him any indication of what was wrong or how to help him, then there was nothing else he could do. They didn’t know a goddamn thing about each other and the Craig in that moment was not at all the Craig who, somewhere deep down, desperately wanted to change that. He did the bare minimum that was expected of him and that was as far as he was willing to go.

The sound of crying eventually started to die down and was soon replaced by the warm, inviting embrace of quietude. He checked the time once more and felt the weight of the world on his shoulders slowly begin to lighten, all but praying that the ten more minutes he needed before he could drive safely would pass with ease. However, Craig knew that all good things must come to an end, and the ever sought after stillness was punctuated by the sudden _pop_ of the glove box opening. He turned towards Tweek and was slightly taken aback as he watched the blond start aggressively shuffling through the contents of the compartment, throwing things aside with reckless abandon.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for tissues. Or napkins. Something to dry my face with.”

“I don’t have any. Use your sleeve.”

Tweek shot him an incredulous look. “You don’t _have_ anything? You act like you’ve never had a… _hic_ … spontaneous breakdown before!”

“I haven’t. Unlike you, I’m in control of my emotions.”

“You… you’re so... gah!” 

Craig watched as Tweek balled his hands into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He looked on with a sort of morbid curiosity as those fists started shaking slowly at first, and then more violently as each moment passed. It seemed as though that, at any second, Tweek would simply implode and there would be nothing but an empty space left in the passenger seat beside him. Tweek suddenly released his hands, stretching his slender fingers outward and reaching for his head. He grabbed a few unsuspecting locks of honey blond hair and yanked on them with such force that Craig was afraid he’d completely rip them out. 

Without thinking, he leaned over the center console and gently wrapped his own fingers around Tweek’s wrists. They locked eyes for a moment, and even beneath the veil of darkness, Craig could see Tweek’s expression soften as he let his arms be lowered slowly back down to his sides. The space between them that had previously been filled with resentment and annoyance was soon replaced with something like electricity, and Craig could feel his heart start to beat a little faster. But the spark soon fell through like the last grains of sand in an hourglass, and Tweek pushed him back out of his personal space once again.

“If you don’t care about me, then stop doing things that make me think you do,” he muttered, staring blankly out of the passenger window.

Craig sighed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ ,” Tweek hissed, twisting back around to face him with a flash of anger in his eyes, “you still haven’t fucking apologized to me!”

“Are you seriously still on about that?”

“Yes, man, I fucking am! Gah! Why can’t you just say sorry?”

“Fine! I shouldn’t have yelled at you in study hall or blamed you for making me late. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m sorry.” Craig replied, folding his arms across his chest like a petulant child. “Happy now?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Craig.”

Tweek’s alcohol-fueled emotions had been all over the place prior to that moment, but it hit Craig like a ton of bricks when his angrily contorted features relaxed into an absolutely _beaming_ smile. It drove a stake right through his heart and he could have sworn he felt his soul leave his body. Hearing his name in that voice just hammered the final nail into his coffin, and he was entirely unprepared for the feeling it evoked. It wasn’t that Craig was unhappy with his life, but he couldn’t remember the last time he felt a moment was near perfect like the one he was living in now.

And then Tweek threw up— _all_ over the front of his car.

“Oh what the _fuck_ , dude.” Craig whispered to nobody in particular. He glanced at his once pristine dashboard—now covered in a stark reminder of the absolute whirlwind the night had been—and exhaled heavily at the prospect of having to clean it tomorrow. 

“I– Holy shit, I’m sorry.” Tweek let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “Bet you wish you had napkins now.”

He paid the comment no mind, even though there was a small part of him that wanted to laugh as well. Instead, he finally started the car and buckled his seatbelt, motioning for Tweek to do the same. “Let’s just get you home.”

* * *

As he pulled up their street, Craig noticed that while his house was completely dark, Tweek’s house still showed ample signs of life. Through the large bay window that sat seamlessly over the porch, he could see that the living room lights were on and Tweek’s parents were cuddled up on the couch watching television. Tweek, who had finally managed to relax on the short drive home, started up his nervous fidgeting again. Craig could sense incoming problems, so he drove right past their driveways and pulled over a few houses down.

“Are you going to be okay if I drop you off at your house?”

The blond paused for a moment, a look of deep concentration on his face. “No. Oh, god, if my parents see me like this they’ll never let me out of the house again!”

“Okay, how about you try and calm down first before jumping to conclusions.”

“Aaahhh… I can’t calm down! I told them I was going to a party but I promised not to do anything bad! And… and then that Cartman asshole dared me to drink and I– I–”

Craig could see that Tweek was spiraling, and he absolutely _racked_ his brain for a solution. Tweek had sobered up a little between the party and now, but that somehow made his paranoia even worse. The constant oscillation between wanting to take care of him and wanting to throw him out of a moving vehicle was truly giving him whiplash. Dealing with this sort of thing was not at all in Craig’s repertoire, and if Tweek _was_ somehow his soulmate, then the universe had an especially fucked up sense of humor. 

“Tweek.”

“Wha– what?”

“You don’t have to go home. You can stay at my house tonight. But you need to text your parents and let them know.”

“Ooooo...kay,” he replied with a strained voice, as if he was struggling just to get the word out. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started quickly tapping away at the screen. “Okay. I texted them.”

Without another word, Craig drove the car in reverse down the empty street until he was within the proper distance to pull into his driveway. They swiftly exited the car and Craig hung back behind Tweek lest he stumble one step too far and fall face first onto the asphalt. As he placed his key into the lock on the front door, he signaled for Tweek to be quiet. The blond just nodded and stood there awkwardly as Craig slowly opened the door and motioned for him to step inside.

“Go upstairs and turn right when you get to the top. My room is the very last one on the left side of the hallway. I’ll be up in a minute.” He explained in a whisper, hoping the drunk man standing before him would be able to remember his directions.

Tweek nodded again and tried his best to tiptoe up the stairwell, clinging to the railing for support. Once Craig was satisfied that he’d made it upstairs without incident, he snuck into the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water and a large bowl. With the basic gear needed for taking care of Tweek in tow, he quietly made his way up the stairs and entered his room. As he carefully shut the bedroom door behind him, he noticed Tweek standing there only a foot or so from the entrance, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars dotted along his ceiling in awe. 

“They’re pretty,” he commented, not necessarily to Craig, but more to himself.

Craig stepped forward in line with where he was standing. “I like them, too.”

Tweek turned his neck and refocused his vision from the ceiling to the man beside him, offering a small smile. As he looked down to meet his gaze, Craig silently took note of the height difference that he hadn’t quite noticed before. Tweek wasn’t short by any means, maybe five eight or five nine, but Craig still had about six inches on him. He suddenly felt the prick of a feeling he was unfamiliar with, and with each passing second he found himself wanting to close that gap. But as he felt the full weight of the water bottle in his left hand, he came to the conclusion that this wasn’t the time to try and crack that code.

“Sit down on the bed and drink some of this,” he said matter-of-factly, trying to rid his tone of any emotion at all. “I’ll get you a shirt to sleep in.”

They parted ways for a moment while Tweek heeded his instructions and Craig dug through his closet for something to wear. “Long or short sleeves?”

“Long.”

“Okay,” he replied, pulling an old grey sweatshirt from the pile of clean laundry that he’d yet to put away. He handed the shirt to Tweek, but the blond just sat still and made no moves to start changing his clothes. “Are you going to change or...?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “can you turn around, though?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Craig did as he was asked and sat at his desk, mindlessly facing the wall while Tweek got changed. The thought of privacy hadn’t even crossed his mind since he’d seen practically every single one of his male friends and classmates without a shirt on at some point in his life.

“Okay, I’m done now. Sorry.” Tweek whispered as Craig turned around and tried hard to stifle a laugh. He eyed the taller man quizzically and furrowed his brow. “What the hell is so funny? You’re the one who picked this out!”

The sweatshirt in question had fit loosely even on Craig, and Tweek was just absolutely _swimming_ in it. He looked like a little kid who had gotten into his father’s clothes and was trying them on for fun. Craig took a deep breath and did his best to bury the desire to laugh. “It’s– it’s nothing. Drink some more water.”

Tweek mumbled something under his breath as he fiddled with the bottle cap but Craig didn’t quite catch what it was. Paying him no mind, he grabbed one of his pillows and tossed it on the floor by the edge of his bed. He backtracked to his closet and shuffled things around for a bit until he pulled out an old _Red Racer_ throw blanket that he hadn’t used since he was a kid. He laid down, draping the fabric over his torso as best he could, and looked up to find Tweek confusedly staring down at him.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m laying down to go to sleep.” Craig replied as he shifted his body into a more comfortable position on the floor. “You should, too. I left that bowl on the nightstand in case you feel sick again, and the bathroom is directly across the hall if you need it.”

Tweek glanced at the empty bed. “Don’t you… don’t you want the bed? It’s your room. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Just go to bed, Tweek.”

Craig heard the sound of Tweek’s weight shifting on the mattress followed by what almost sounded like a scuffle with the comforter. He could only assume that he was trying to cocoon himself, which honestly didn’t sound too bad to the six-foot-three man barely halfway covered with a throw blanket from his childhood. There was no way he was going to be able to just fall asleep, so he stared up at the stars on his ceiling and tried to process the rollercoaster ride he’d just been on. 

He thought about Tweek and the way they fought earlier, only permanently diffused by an apology he was so insistent on having. He thought about Eric and the way he’d pushed Tweek to do something stupid, and he followed up that thought with a brief but satisfying fantasy of punching him in his stupid fucking face. He wondered what had possessed Tweek to even accept the bet to begin with, and he wondered why he later tried to pull out his hair. The night really was, by all accounts, a terrible one. He dealt with an identity crisis, nearly got into a physical altercation, and somehow ended up taking care of a person who seemed to be the human equivalent of a slow motion car crash.

And yet, despite all of it, he found himself wanting to know everything about Tweek.

* * *

Craig awoke the next morning feeling like he’d slept in a bath of ice. 

The child-sized blanket that had barely kept him warm was kicked off to the side, and at some point during the night he’d also removed his hoodie. His gaze slowly traveled over towards his window, and he let out a sigh when he realized he had once again left it open overnight. Shivering a little, he sat up and reached into his jeans pocket for his phone to check the time. It was barely ten in the morning, and he did not yet have the level of functionality needed to answer the laundry list of missed texts in his inbox. Those would have to wait until later, and he shoved the device back into his pocket before finally getting up off the floor. He sleepily yawned, stretched out his limbs, and turned towards his bed.

“Tweek, are you—” Craig started, stopping short when he realized that his bed was somewhat made and there was no Tweek to be found. 

He swiftly exited his bedroom and saw that the bathroom door was wide open with the light turned off. _No Tweek in there, either,_ he thought to himself as he ambled down the stairwell and into the living room. When the living room was empty, he passed through the archway that led into the kitchen and was greeted once more by nothing and no one. Taking a seat at the dining table, he pulled his phone out again with the intention of texting Tweek to make sure that he’d just gone home when he woke up. However, it quickly dawned on him that he didn’t have his number.

“Well, _shit_ ,” he mumbled under his breath, tossing his phone down on the table a little too hard. 

“Don’t use that language, Craig,” his mother interjected as she entered the room without warning, nearly scaring him half to death. 

Craig craned his neck and saw Laura putting groceries down on the countertop behind where he was sitting. “How was I supposed to know you were going to sneak up on me like that when I said it?”

“The point is to not use it at all,” she sighed as she pulled a baguette out of one of the plastic shopping bags. “And I’m not sure I even want to know what happened, but really you need to go clean out your car as soon as possible. Otherwise it’s going to smell horrendous for weeks.”

He’d totally forgotten that Tweek had thrown up last night. 

“Oh fuck, my car!”

“Christ, Craig, what did I _just_ say!”

“Fuck, sorry,” he replied without thinking. “I mean– sorry.”

Laura just shook her head and paused what she was doing for a moment. After a few seconds of absolute silence, she perked up like a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above her head. “Oh, I almost forgot! There was a package for you on the front step. I would have picked it up on my way in but my hands were full. Make sure you grab it when you go out there to clean.”

“Did you see who it was from?”

“All I could see was a note with your name on it. Looks like it was hand delivered and not mailed, though. Is there someone we should know about? A _girl_ , maybe?”

“I gotta go.”

Craig ignored his mother’s comment as he stood up and left her to her own devices in the kitchen. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and some cleaning spray from the linen closet before heading outside. Sure enough, there was a brown cardboard box pushed to the side of the front step with a note taped firmly to the top. He set down the cleaning supplies and picked up the box, flipping the note over to see if anything else was written on it other than his name. There wasn’t, so he decided to just take a deep breath and flip open the top. 

Inside were six vanilla cupcakes adorned with blue frosting and star shaped sprinkles. The piping was messy and there were stray sprinkles all along the bottom, so he could instantly tell that these were homemade. Nobody had ever done anything like this for him before, and he went through every single one of his friends in his head trying to figure out who it could have been. Clyde was a decent baker and an even better cook, but he would never just drop food off and leave. He’d insist on coming in to hang out, and would end up eating most of it himself. Token was good at a lot of things, but baking was not one of them. There were a few stories Craig could recall that supported that argument, and he let out a little laugh upon remembering them. Kenny had never been to his house before, but even if he had, this sort of thing wasn’t exactly his style—so he was out, too. 

That meant that there was only one even _remotely_ plausible suspect left.

“There’s no fucking way,” he whispered to himself, nearly imperceptibly, as his heart skipped a beat.

If Craig had looked up in that moment, he would have seen someone looking back at him through the large bay window across the street, a little bit of blue frosting still stained on his face.


	5. 05

Craig wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he returned to school on Monday, but it certainly wasn’t _this_. He actually went to his locker that morning, standing around long enough to be late for class, waiting for Tweek to show up. When he didn’t, Craig shrugged his shoulders and quietly accepted the reprimand that his tardiness had wrought. It was an all expenses paid trip to detention, but he had a feeling he’d be skipping this one and cashing it in for another tomorrow instead. He showed up to the cafeteria during lunch, hoping that Tweek would be sitting at the table he shared with his friends, but the blond wasn’t there either. Craig silently debated on just leaving to go eat outside again, feeling a mix of unidentifiable emotions regarding his neighbor’s absence. Just as he was about to turn on his heels and exit the cafeteria, Clyde started eagerly waving him over like a construction flagger on the side of the road.

_Guess I have to stay now._

“Craig! I thought I’d never see you in the cafeteria again, bro!” Clyde greeted him happily, sliding over on the bench seat to make some room for him to sit.

“Hey.”

Most of the others gave him a quick hello or a nod as they continued eating without further comment. It was unusually quiet at their table, and while normally that wouldn’t have bothered him at all, a sinking feeling started growing deep within the pit of his stomach. There were a few reasons he could think of as to why the morale amongst his friends seemed so low, but only one of them left him feeling unsettled. If everyone was being quiet because they just didn’t care for Craig’s company, especially after he’d basically ghosted all of them for over a week, he could handle that. Clyde and Token aside, everyone else at the table was an acquaintance at best. Hell, he didn’t even like some of them—namely Cartman—but he too was mysteriously absent from lunch. What _was_ worrying him, however, was that this strange collective apprehension was born from silent judgement of Tweek and what had gone down at the bonfire.

“Uh,” Craig started, clearing his throat, “have any of you guys seen Tweek today?” He asked the question hesitantly, unsure if he should even open this can of worms when everything seemed so tense.

“I was actually going to ask _you_ that,” Kyle replied as he finished off a bite of his enchilada. He wiped his hands on his napkin and then continued. “You never responded to my text about what happened after you two left Saturday night.”

“Oh. I guess I forgot. There was a lot going on.”

Surprisingly, Kyle didn’t seem annoyed at his response. “Understandable, given the circumstances. That night was… _interesting_ , to say the least. But yeah, what _did_ happen after you guys left?”

Craig surveyed the table, mentally noting the presence of Stan, Kyle, Clyde, Butters, and Token. Kenny was missing, but he already knew that _that_ particular blond wasn’t coming in today. He’d texted Craig around four in the morning saying as much, and to not miss him too much while he was away. Cartman, as he’d realized only moments earlier, was gone as well, and Craig hoped that those who remained would be, at the very least, civil in regards to the events of that night. It was strange, he thought, the unprecedented sense of protectiveness he felt for Tweek. Sure, recent developments concluded that he had a crush on him, but Craig had no idea what the hell that sort of thing entailed. Maybe these feelings were normal. He honestly didn’t know.

Craig sighed and hoped for the best. “We sat in my car for a while and he got really upset, but wouldn’t tell me why. I drove him home but he didn’t want his parents to know he’d been drinking, so he stayed at my house instead. He was gone by the time I woke up, and...” he trailed off, briefly debating on mentioning the cupcakes. But now that Tweek seemed to be avoiding _him_ , he felt that maybe that gesture wasn’t an olive branch like he originally thought it was. At this point, he couldn’t even be sure that it had been Tweek who left them there. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Damn, I hope that dude is okay. He’s cool,” Clyde added as he inhaled nearly half of a turkey and cheese sandwich in one go. “I felt really bad for him at the party.”

“Same,” Stan, Kyle, and Token said at once. 

Butters lightly tapped his fork on the edge of his lunch tray as he looked around the table, seemingly debating on joining the conversation. “I wasn’t there so I don’t know what happened, but Tweek's real nice. Offered to be my lab partner when nobody else would, so I hope he’s okay, too.”

Craig often felt bad for Butters, especially because he never quite grew out of being everybody’s punching bag. He’d been a party to many of those instances growing up, and it was one of the few things he truly regretted after seeing how much it had affected his demeanor years down the line. In fact, any remnants of the innocent and sometimes misguided confidence Butters had back in elementary school was mostly gone now, and his only _real_ friend seemed to be Kenny. He still sat with everyone at lunch, but much like Craig himself, he was sort of an outlier. Craig was glad that Tweek had been kind to him, and that thought made him feel the full weight of his absence.

An air of uncomfortable silence settled in as everyone reflected on what had happened over the weekend. Kyle was the first to break it, turning towards Craig and opening his mouth to speak. “If you see him before I do, can you let him know that I want to talk to him and apologize? I should have just shut Cartman down the second he started talking to him about that stupid bet.”

“I’ll try, I guess,” Craig replied apprehensively, unsure whether Tweek was ever going to talk to _him_ again, let alone Kyle. Or maybe he’d prefer talking to Kyle, or anyone else for that matter, over him. The thought of that scared him a little, and Craig tried his best to ignore the implications of that fear.

“Thanks.”

“You know,” Token said after a few moments of consideration, “you could just go over to his house after school and check in on him. I mean, he’s right across the street from you so it shouldn’t be any trouble.”

Craig shot a glare at Token, who returned it with a sneaky smile. He knew exactly what he was doing and Craig silently cursed him for it. Token may not have been privy to Craig’s underlying feelings towards Tweek, but he knew him well enough to know that he was going to try and avoid dealing with it any further. What he didn’t know was that the reasoning had changed, and that it was no longer annoyance that was holding him back. It was a nervousness that he’d never felt before in his life. 

“Pass.”

Token smiled more obviously this time. “Oh, come on, dude! All you’d have to do is walk, what, maybe fifteen feet across the street and knock on his front door. You can do it, Craig. I believe in you.”

_Fuck, Token. Why are you doing this to me?_

“I just don’t understand why it has to be _my_ responsibility.”

“Well, you know, dude. You live the closest,” Stan interjected, waving his fork in the air as he spoke. “That makes it your responsibility.”

“Yeah, dude. That’s like an unwritten law,” Kyle agreed.

Craig huffed as he eyed his untouched food, deciding he no longer had an appetite and sliding it over to Clyde. “Here, you can have this. I’m not hungry.”

Clyde turned to him. “You sure? You should really eat, dude.”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, alright, thanks bro!” He smiled warmly at Craig and then tore into the brown paper bag like it was Christmas morning. “Man, Laura always buys the best lunch foods. Tell your mom she’s a saint.”

“What is it with you people and addressing my mom by her first name?”

“Wait,” Clyde said as he looked at Craig with a pouty expression stretched across his face, “who else is on a first name basis with your mom? I’ve earned that right! She’s like a second… well, she’s like my only mom now.”

“I– just eat the damn lunch, will you?” Craig’s tone was harsh, but the look he gave Clyde was tender. He had a feeling Clyde would understand, and the way he softly smiled in return confirmed that for him.

“Well, you know I can’t say no to that request.”

Everyone else seemed to perk up after that. They ate, talked, and laughed as though the looming dread that had befallen the first fifteen minutes of lunch had never existed in the first place. It was as if Craig was some sort of human sponge, soaking up all the negative energy and taking on the burden himself. Even though everything was fine now, he was the only one who couldn’t seem to get over it.

* * *

Craig stood on Tweek’s porch and stared at the front door as if he had never seen anything like it in his life. He eyed it like it was some cryptic puzzle from a long forgotten era and he was an inexperienced adventurer who didn’t have even the _faintest_ idea on how to solve it. Logically, he knew that it was not that hard to just knock on the damn door. Maybe the universe would even smile down on him and nobody would answer, allowing him to hightail it right back to the sanctity of his own house. However, as he’d come to notice, something about Tweek’s mere existence completely altered his grasp on reason. 

He wondered if this was really what having a crush on someone was like, or if he was just some sort of anomaly when it came to dealing with emotions. He guessed that maybe he’d spent so many years regulating them that his brain couldn’t handle the idea of being around someone who exuded so much intensity—let alone _liking_ them. No, he didn’t like Tweek. He couldn’t. He knew virtually nothing about Tweek, and frankly, what he _did_ know left him feeling more than a little vexed. 

But then he remembered that drunken smile and the way he looked so peaceful staring up at his ceiling stars. And the fucking cupcakes. The cupcakes that ended up tasting absolutely delicious even if they were a little lopsided. The cupcakes that were tailored so specifically for Craig that even if there had been no note, he would have known they were for him. If Tweek was indeed the one who made them, those cupcakes meant that Craig had made an impression on him. And for better or worse, he knew that, deep down, the two of them were inexorably connected now.

“Fuck, just stop thinking about him!” His voice rang out and caused him to jump a little, those words originally meant to stay within the confines of his thoughts.

“Well, hello to you, too, son!”

Craig snapped back to reality the instant the stranger’s voice hit his ears. He hadn’t noticed the front door opening while he was stuck in his head, and a man he’d never seen before was standing in the doorway smiling at him. “I– I’m sorry. Are you, uh, Tweek’s dad?”

“That I am,” the man chuckled, “but you can call me Richard. What’s your name, son?”

“Craig. Uh, Tucker. Craig Tucker. I go to school with Tweek. And I also live right across the street.”

“Nice to meet you, Craig! We’ve been meaning to make the rounds but unpacking and getting ready to open the shop has taken longer than we expected. We’ll be over soon enough to greet your family, though. I take it you’re looking for Tweek?”

“Yeah. If that’s okay.”

“Sure thing! We’re... so _happy_ to see that Tweek has finally made a friend. Uh, here in South Park, I mean.” Richard stumbled over that last sentence, as though he realized he’d said something he wasn’t meant to. “Just head on upstairs. His room’s the first one on the right.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Craig replied, but made no moves to go inside. It felt like concrete blocks were tied to his ankles, weighing him down and keeping him in place.

Richard laughed a little awkwardly. “Well, you can take your time going inside but I do need to squeeze by you. I’m on my way out.”

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized, an embarrassed edge to his voice. He moved out of the way to let Richard through.

“It was nice to meet you, son. I hope we see more of you!”

Craig waited until Tweek’s father pulled out of the driveway before finally stepping inside of their house. He carefully shut the door behind him and stood there for a while, looking around at the living room he now found himself in. The walls were a calm yellow color, complemented by the various vases of white and yellow flowers that were carefully displayed on bookshelves and console tables. The neighborhood they lived in wasn’t particularly nice—just a standard middle class street—but the interior decoration felt both homey and _classy_. At least a lot classier than his own house, but his family was made up of function-over-form types, with form being very far down on the list of priorities.

He told himself that he didn’t give a single fuck about any of it—the color of the walls, the flowers in vases, and the lovely family portrait hanging effortlessly above the sofa were all just distractions. His thoughts on them were merely observations he took his sweet time making to prolong the inevitable. He _definitely_ didn’t let his gaze linger a little longer on the wall of photos that lined the pathway up the stairwell. There were absolutely _no_ moves made to look specifically at photos of Tweek throughout the years, his mop of blond hair sticking out amongst his parents’ light brown. Anxiety _didn’t_ rattle around in his ribcage when he saw how tired Tweek looked in most of them, and his heart certainly did _not_ beat faster at the ones where he was happily smiling.

Once he reached the top of the stairs, the room he’d been avoiding was right there waiting for him. The bedroom door was wide open and Tweek was nowhere to be found, the sound of running water a little ways down the hall telling him all he needed to know. He took a deep breath and stepped inside the room, feeling a lot like a trespasser in a place he should not be. These walls were a deep emerald green, and Craig had deduced in the past two weeks that this was likely Tweek’s favorite color. Five or six takeout coffee cups were scattered along the surface of his desk with two more sitting on his nightstand. He hesitantly walked over to the desk and picked one up, not recognizing the branding from a simple glance alone. It said _Tweek Bros. Coffee House_ in red letters, and he briefly remembered Richard mentioning something about opening a shop in town. 

_Huh_ , he thought, _maybe copious amounts of coffee explains some things._

“ _Gah!_ What are you doing here!?”

The sudden verbal intrusion startled Craig and the coffee cup he’d been holding fell out of his hand, unceremoniously landing on the desk with a hollow _thud_ . He slowly turned to look at Tweek, who was wrapped in a large white towel and clutching it to his body for dear life. Craig silently took in the sight before him, noticing pale freckled skin with dozens of thin red scratches erratically crawling up the length of his wiry arms. Little alarm bells went off in his head, but he had no idea what to do. Or say. Or if he even _should_ do or say anything should any shred of an idea actually come to him. The scene in its entirety was making him more than a little flustered, and he struggled to find the words to respond. 

“I– I came to check on you. You know. Since you weren’t at school today. And you disappeared on Sunday. And– I’ll– I’ll just leave.” 

Tweek stared at him like a deer in headlights, water droplets dripping from the ends of his hair and rolling down his face. As the initial shock wore off, something akin to anger crossed his features as he began to speak. “Just… _ngh_ ! Just go wait in the… _ah!_ hall for a minute while I change!”

Craig did exactly as he was told, and to Tweek’s credit, it really did only take about a minute. When Tweek opened the bedroom door to let Craig back in, he was wearing the frayed green sweater from the day he’d moved in and a pair of black leggings. Two mismatched socks adorned his feet—one plain white and one black with white polka dots—and Craig had a feeling it wasn’t meant to be a quirky fashion statement. Tweek seemed like _exactly_ the kind of person who could not keep a matching pair of socks together to save his life.

He silently followed Tweek back into his room and stood there awkwardly as the nervous blond sat on his bed and fidgeted with his hands. As he glanced around the room again, he realized he’d been so preoccupied with the coffee cups that he hadn’t noticed the mass of model planes, cars, and other do-it-yourself projects neatly perched high upon the wooden shelves that lined the wall above his bed. He briefly wondered how Tweek had managed to build all of them when it seemed like his hands never stopped moving, but maybe that was actually an advantage. He’d never done anything like that, so he really didn’t know.

“You,” Tweek started, clearing his throat. “Um, you said you came to check on me?”

“Yeah. Everyone at lunch was worried about you, and I live the closest, so...”

“Were _you_ worried, though?” Tweek mumbled under his breath as he stared down at his feet, his voice so low that Craig didn’t quite catch what he’d said.

“What?”

The blond shook his head fervently, causing little droplets of water to fly everywhere within a five foot radius. “Ah… nothing. It’s… _hnn!_ nothing! But, uh, I’m fine.”

“Okay. If you say so,” Craig replied flatly, unconvinced. 

“I mean it! I just, um...” he trailed off and scanned the room, his wide eyes landing on the pile of empty coffee cups that he’d seen Craig looking at minutes earlier. It was the perfect way to change the subject. “H-Hey! Do you want some coffee? I can make us some coffee _right_ now!”

“Uh, I don’t really—”

Tweek abruptly stood up and didn’t give him even a fraction of a chance to finish that thought before interrupting. “Great! Let’s go downstairs, then!” 

Craig watched in horrified awe as Tweek quickly barrelled into the hallway as though he couldn’t get away from him fast enough. It was like chasing lightning as he followed him down the stairs and through the living room, both of them finally coming to a stop once they reached the kitchen. It was by far the largest room in the house, and the high-end appliances may have even rivaled the ones at Token’s mansion. Tweek silently motioned for him to take a seat at the island counter, and he waited until Craig was comfortably seated on a tall wooden stool before resuming his mission.

_Intricate_. 

That was the only word Craig could find to describe the way that Tweek moved around the kitchen, effortlessly using a coffee machine that looked like it belonged in a fancy café. It was the first time he’d ever seen the blond work at a task that didn’t cause him to fidget or spasm, and in all honesty, he found the whole scene mesmerizing. This was something he was good at. Something that he’d clearly spent years honing to absolute perfection. Something he genuinely _loved_ . And in that moment, Craig realized he could not turn down this cup of coffee, even though he had previously planned to. This wasn’t just a distraction from their earlier conversation anymore. It was a _gift_.

Within minutes, a white mug was gently set down in front of him as Tweek took a seat on the opposite side of the island counter. “Let me know how it tastes,” he said with a small smile, taking a careful sip of his own.

Craig was not much of a coffee drinker. In fact, he didn’t like coffee at _all_ . And he wasn’t sure if it was the expert skill level at which his drink had been made or if it was the fact that Tweek was the one who made it, but it tasted _fantastic_ . “It’s– wow. I don’t even like coffee, but I wouldn’t mind drinking _this_ every once in a while.”

“Thanks,” Tweek said quietly, blushing a little at the compliment. “Maybe my parents’ shop will do well here, then. I learned everything from them.”

“Your dad mentioned something about that.”

Tweek suddenly snapped his neck up to look at him, his green eyes wide like saucers and laced with something like shock. He was clearly not expecting Craig to mention his father in any capacity. “You… you talked to my dad?”

“Sort of. He’s the one who let me in.”

“Oh. He wasn’t home when I was getting ready to take a shower so I had no idea he’d stopped by before going back to the shop. That’s why I was so freaked out when I saw you in my room. I thought you just let yourself in.”

“You sure it wasn’t because you were in a towel?”

“Oh, fuck _off_ ,” Tweek replied, rolling his eyes and and offering a cheeky grin. The smile was short lived, however, and Craig looked at him with concern as he tried to figure out why the mood had suddenly shifted. “You… you saw them, right? The scratches?”

Craig closed his eyes for a brief moment, unsure as to whether it was better to address the subject head on or sweep it under the rug. He sighed deeply and opened them back up, unable to avoid just how bothered Tweek looked sitting across from him. “Yeah... I saw them.”

“It’s not– um, it’s not on purpose… not in the way you might be thinking, at least. I just get… panic attacks, and sometimes that causes weird sensations and scratching kind of helps. I just– I’d really like it if you didn’t mention them to anyone. I mean, my parents know, but like, anyone else.”

“It’s nobody else’s business but your own.” Craig took another sip of his coffee and mentally prepared himself to ask his next question. “Is pulling your hair out another thing that helps?”

Tweek’s face fell even further, his delicate features twisted into an expression of absolute dismay. “I– How did you know– Please for the love of _God_ tell me I didn’t do that at the bonfire. _Please_.”

“You didn’t. Not in front of everyone else, at least. But you did when we were sitting in my car. I stopped you before you could keep going, though.”

_“Fuck_ , man. I– I’m sorry. I don’t even remember that happening. There’s a lot of gaps from that night and… that’s why I didn’t show up today. I was just so terrified that I completely embarrassed myself and now everyone that I was even _slightly_ making friends with probably hates me and—”

“Tweek.”

“Wh– What?”

“Nobody hates you. Nobody that matters, anyway.”

“I just– I just _really_ don’t want a repeat of how it was at my last school. And I feel like I already… _ngh!_ fucked that up and I’ll be right back to where I... _ah!_ started before we moved and all of the progress will be for nothing, and—”

“ _Tweek._ ” Craig called his name again, this time with more weight. “Focus on one thought at a time. _Breathe_.”

“I– It’s– You don’t understand–” Tweek started, but stopped mid-sentence and took a deep breath like he was instructed. “Sorry. You’re right. I got worked up…”

“It’s fine, Tweek. You’re honestly giving me all the chances in the world to get used to it.”

The corners of Tweek’s mouth turned up a bit. “Man, fuck you.” He smiled a little more before adding, “Thank you, though. You’re, uh, surprisingly good at forcing me to calm down. Your method is a little… indelicate, but I guess it helps.”

Craig ignored the compliment and the wave of butterflies that accompanied it, opting to follow up on something the blond mentioned earlier. “So, what happened at your last school?”

“That’s– uh, yeah. That’s not really something I want to talk about. Not until I can trust you, anyway. It’s kind of… a _lot_.”

“Oh. Okay.” Craig shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to press him any further. “But I mean it. Nobody hates you. I’m here because the guys wanted to make sure you were okay. Kyle even said he wanted to talk to you and apologize.”

“I really hope that’s the case and you’re not just saying that,” Tweek replied with an air of uncertainty in his voice. He paused for a moment, sheepishly looking back and forth between his coffee cup and the ground. “Did… did you get the cupcakes?”

“Yeah. They were really good, actually,” Craig said as he caught himself smiling against his will. He straightened his face a little before continuing. “You didn’t poison them by any chance, did you?”

“I don’t know, Craig. Did you get sick? Are you dead?”

“No.”

“Well, damn. My master plan didn’t work, then. I guess I need to work harder at being a cupcake assassin.” Tweek laughed— _genuinely_ —and Craig tried his best to ignore the heat that was slowly rising to his face. 

“Better luck next time. I’m a hard man to kill.”

The blond laughed again, this time a little more softly. “No, but really, I’m glad you liked them. I… I was way too scared to talk to you when I woke up, and I just didn’t know how else to say thank you after what I put you through Saturday night. What I can remember, at least. After hearing that I tried to… _pull my hair out_ in front of you, I’m kind of afraid to fill in the rest of the gaps.”

“Do you want to?”

Tweek wrapped his long slender fingers around his mug and sighed. “I think I need to. I don’t like having lost time.”

“Okay, what do you remember?”

“I remember drinking. A _lot_ . Way more than I ever should have, considering I’d never even _had_ an alcoholic drink before that night.”

“Then why did you even take the bet?”

He sighed again. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to seem cool or something? Like I fit in at the party, even though I clearly didn’t.”

“That’s really fucking stupid, Tweek,” Craig replied instantaneously without thinking. But he didn’t correct himself, because he meant it. “And even if you wanted to try and fit in and impress people, Cartman is the _last_ person on fucking earth who you should involve yourself with.”

“I– I know. I get how stupid it was, okay?” Tweek stared down at his coffee, wincing a little at the harshness of Craig’s tone. He breathed in and out slowly, and then continued racking his brain for details of that night. “Um, I remember yelling at you. And I also remember thinking that you definitely deserved it.”

Craig let out a single laugh. “Yeah, you absolutely would _not_ let up until I said I was sorry. I’ve never seen anyone so insistent on getting an apology before. Do you remember that I gave you one?”

“Yeah,” Tweek smiled a little, “that I _do_ remember. But did you mean it?”

“Mostly.”

Tweek exhaled heavily, figuring that was the best he was going to get. “Well, thanks again for complying with my demands, I guess. Aside from that, I only really remember going to sleep at your house. Everything else is hazy at best.”

“I guess I’ll fill you in on the rest, then,” Craig said before finishing off the very last sip of his coffee, gently sliding the empty mug to the side. “You better buckle up because it was an absolute _shitshow_.”

“Oh, god… just– okay. Go ahead.”

“I tried to corral you because you were standing way too close to the bonfire, but you kept angrily pushing me away because I hadn’t apologized to you yet. Kyle thankfully stepped in and created a distraction so I could carry you all the way back to my car. You laughed, cried, and then _finally_ calmed down when I said I was sorry. Everything was fine for about thirty seconds after that until you threw up all over my car.”

The blond was mid-sip when he suddenly choked. “I– I what?”

“Yeah. I spent a good chunk of Sunday morning cleaning out my car. So if there’s anyone you should worry about hating you, it’s me.”

“Fuck. I– I’m really, _really_ sorry,” he apologized, hanging his head. “Do… um, do you hate me? At least _now_ I could understand if you do.”

Part of Craig wanted to be a dick. If he lied and told Tweek that he did in fact hate him, he could separate himself entirely and bury his crush somewhere deep where he’d never have to deal with it again. If he told a half-truth, that he didn’t hate him, then they’d inevitably spend more time together and he’d have to confront growing feelings he didn’t know what to do with. If he told the whole truth, that he was _interested_ in him despite trying to resist it with every fiber of his being, then he would have zero time to prepare for Tweek’s response—positive or negative. The more he looked at Tweek, really _looked_ at him, the more flustered he became as he tried to cycle through the outcomes of decisions he’d yet to make in his head.

_Fuck it,_ he thought, _I’ll settle for a half-truth._

“I don’t hate you,” he exhaled slowly, trying to settle his nerves. “You got wasted and threw up. It happens.”

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” Tweek replied as he breathed a sigh of relief. He looked away for a moment and then whispered, “I’m really happy to hear that.”

That comment hit Craig like a ton of bricks. He could feel himself blushing full-force and he was powerless to stop it. “Wh– Why would it matter if I hated you? We’re not friends. We barely know each other.”

Tweek just shrugged and smiled softly, the look on his face almost a little melancholy. “I know we’re not friends but… I don’t know. Sometimes you do or say things that make me feel like we could be someday. Even if you’re rude and incredibly tactless, I just really can’t help but think that you’re kind of cool.”

_Oh,_ fuck _me._

“I– I gotta go. I, uh, came over here directly after school, so– You know. Homework. I have to do homework because it’s really important. For life. Uh, thanks for the coffee and, uh, yeah. Bye,” Craig replied as he got up off the stool and started scrambling for the front door, trying his absolute best to hide his beet red face from Tweek.

The blond hopped off his own stool and followed Craig into the living room, watching as the taller man practically stumbled across the carpet towards the door. He smiled to himself, seeking a little chaos after bearing witness to just how flustered Craig had become after hearing such a simple compliment. “Wait, Craig!”

Craig stopped dead in his tracks but didn’t turn around. As his hand hovered over the doorknob, he flatly asked, “What is it, Tweek?”

“Not just kind of.”

“Wh– What? Not just kind of _what_?”

Tweek was smiling ear to ear behind him, trying his hardest not to laugh. “Not just kind of cool. I think you’re _really_ cool.”

Craig didn’t say another word. He couldn’t. He absolutely could _not_ . Because if he even _dared_ to, the very last shreds of reason and sanity would escape his body through his gaping mouth. He opened the door, stepped out onto the front porch, and slammed it shut behind him before leaning up against it to catch his breath. A series of amused laughs poured out of Tweek from inside the house, and Craig clutched the fabric of his t-shirt closest to his chest. 

“That absolute _motherfucker_.”

There was no _way_ he hadn’t done that on purpose.


End file.
